Hawks Mountain - Mobi (28 page)

“Nick!”

Nick hugged the boy close, still trying to assimilate what he was seeing. Over Ahmed’s shoulder, he looked at Chuck, whose delighted expression was indescribable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like I told you, after you got back to the states and left the Navy, you disappeared. I had no idea where you were. Then, when you did call, you hung up so fast I never got to tell you.”

Nick set Ahmed away from him and looked him over. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought—”

The boy grinned. “You thought I died.”

His eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed, Nick nodded. “Yes, Ahmed, I thought you died.”

“I did not die. And my name is Sam now.” His chest expanded. “Like Uncle Sam. I am American.”

Nick looked at Chuck. Chuck nodded. “He became an American citizen last week and our legally adopted son last month.”

“Come on, Sammy. Let’s go tell Mom the news.” Mickey tugged on Sammy’s arm.

“No. You tell her. I wish to stay with my friend Nick for a while.”

“Okay.” Mickey ran off leaving the three of them behind.

Nick and Chuck sat back on the chaise lounges, and Sammy dropped to the grass to sit Indian style between them.

Still puzzled, Nick asked, “How did he end up here with you?”

“After we found Ahmed, we took him back to camp. He had a concussion, a compound leg fracture and a few broken ribs. The captain pulled some strings and had him shipped to a state side hospital for the operation on his leg. They pinned it and patched up his ribs. When I got out, I found him and brought him home to live with us.” He ruffled Sammy’s dark hair. “The rest is history, right,
buddy
?”

“Right.”
Sammy smiled at Chuck.

Unable to take his gaze off the boy he’d believed dead for over a year, Nick couldn’t help but think about all the months he’d agonized over this kid. If Nick had just let everyone know where he’d gone, so much misery could have been averted. But then he might not have moved to
Hawks
Mountain
, and he wouldn’t have met Becky.

Becky.

Except Becky had probably already put him behind her.
His note had been too brief, too vague. And he hadn’t even hinted that he would be back. He’d just up and left saying he had to go. And she’d probably just given up on him. Not that he could blame her if she had. He’d given her no reason not to feel otherwise. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her?

Nick had been gone for over a week, and spring on
Hawks
Mountain
had begun its subtle transition into summer. The temperatures had been slowly growing warmer each day; the trees had burst into full leaf. Yellow columbine and the orange day lilies had begun to fade and be replaced by the warmer weather wildflowers: white meadowsweet, deep pink fireweed and yellow foxglove. The plump blackberries growing on the bushes along the winding path meant Granny would soon be sending Becky out with a bucket to pick them to make Granny’s famous blackberry jam.

But Becky wasn’t thinking about trees or wildflowers or
jam
and paid only scant attention to the signs of summer that had once made her blood run fast with the excitement of the carefree, sultry days to come. Today, as she had for days now, her thoughts centered on a cabin on the ridge and its absent owner.

Becky had called
Lydia
to check on Davy the day after his accident, and she’d said Nick had stayed the night in the hospital with her and the boy, and then rode home with them, and that he’d driven out of town and up the mountain in his truck.

So he had come home, written the brief note to her, and then left again. But for where?
And why?
Because of her?
Because of her threat to make him talk about whatever was bothering him?

Granny, who had silently watched her granddaughter mope around for days, had finally made one comment this morning and then left it alone for Becky to ponder. “He’ll come back when he’s ready, child, and not before. If he doesn’t, then you’ll know it was never meant to be.”

Though she knew Granny’s words had come straight from her big heart and her unending supply of mature wisdom, they hadn’t helped ease either Becky’s pain or her guilt. If she just hadn’t given him that warning about the talk. If she hadn’t pushed him into a corner, then perhaps he’d still be here. When would she learn that she couldn’t fix everyone’s problems?

The ever increasing volume of the sound of water cascading into a pool broke the pastoral silence. Becky walked faster, eager to reach her destination. Finding her way through the tangle of vines and bushes surrounding the fall’s clearing, she stepped into the open area. Her gaze shot to the rock, hoping to find Nick sitting there. But the only occupant of the rock was a large
redtail
hawk with a plump field mouse dangling from its beak.

Heart hurting, eyes burning with unshed tears, she stumbled to the rock she’d shared with Nick on a day that now seemed like years ago. The hawk took flight, squawking in protest about being disturbed and losing his perch. Then she hoisted herself up to its craggy surface. The sun had warmed it, and the heat seeped through the worn denim of her jeans.

But nothing could melt the ice around her heart, nothing but Nick. And he wasn’t coming. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the patches of sun on the water into smears of indistinct light. Angrily, she wiped the tears away. She’d spent days
crying,
and what had it gotten her?
Sore, swollen, red eyes.
Not Nick’s return, that’s for sure. Nor had it filled the empty, aching hole inside her.

If the love would just go away, if she could throw a switch and turn it off like a light, then maybe the pain would go away, too. Unfortunately, that’s not how love works. It’s there, inside, and no amount of wishing can change that. Somehow, she’d just have to live with it
until .
 . . Until what?
Until she died?
Until she found someone who could possibly replace Nick in her heart? Right now, that seemed as impossible as moving this mountain.

Becky slipped down from the rock and took off her shoes, then rolled her jean legs up and stepped into the water at the edge of the pool. The first shock of the cold water on her feet made her gasp, but as she quickly grew accustomed to it, she found it soothing on the raw, ragged edges of her nerves.

A frog’s croak from somewhere on the far side of the pool drew Becky’s attention. The call was quickly answered by a deep-throated call from another frog nearby who hopped from the cover of a large branch overhanging the pool to an exposed rock. Out of nowhere came the
pwee
call of a broad-winged hawk. Becky watched as the crow-sized bird swooped down and grabbed one of the frogs in its beak, then flew off into the trees for its morning feast.

The whole scenario reminded her of how tenuous life was. It also reminded her of how easily one could stick out their neck and get hurt as a result. But if a person didn’t take a chance now and then, they’d never discover how exciting life could be. She couldn’t recall who’d said it, but life truly was a crap shoot.

Leaning over, she plucked a daisy from the pool’s edge. Its sparkling white petals reminded her of the snow that fell on
Hawks
Mountain
every winter, and the bright yellow center brought to mind the sun beating down on her shoulders in the summer. Carrying the flower back to the rock, she hoisted herself atop it.

Reminded of a favorite pastime from her childhood, she plucked a petal.

“He loves me.”

Pluck.

“He loves me not.”

Pluck.

“He loves me.”

Pluck

“He loves you.”

The familiar deep male voice from behind her startled Becky.
Her breath caught in her throat. She froze. Afraid to look, afraid her imagination was playing games with her.
But, at the same time, afraid not to look.

Could it
be .
 . . or was she dreaming? Her fingers turned numb. The flower fell to the ground. Fearing it was her imagination, very slowly, she turned around.

“Nick.” His name passed her lips as no more than a whisper in the wind.

Still unwilling to believe her own eyes, she touched his cheek. The rough beard stubble abraded her palm. She pulled back, but not fast enough to prevent him from grasping her hand.

His fingers enclosed hers tightly, as if he was afraid she’d run.

“I do, you know. Love you.”

Over the last few days, Becky’s emotions had run the gambit: confusion, fear, heartache, loneliness, apprehension. Though relieved at the sight of him, she didn’t know whether to kiss him or throttle him. Oddly what won out was unexpected anger. She couldn’t explain its origin, just that it had suddenly risen to the top and overcome her elation at seeing him. She tore her hand from his grip.

“And that’s supposed to make everything okay?” Her strident voice surprised even her.

“What?” He took a step backwards, his face furrowed in a confused frown.

She jumped off the rock and advanced on him like a stalking lion. “You disappear without anything to explain it except a stupid note that says nothing. Then you show up here a week later and think you can fix everything just by saying I love you? Well, you can’t, Nick.”

Again, he stepped away from her. “I—”

Taking another step toward him, she held up her hand. “I’m not through.” She took a deep breath. “Do you realize how many people you hurt? I worried. Granny Jo worried.
Lydia
worried. Davy worried. Did it ever occur to you that we all love you and are concerned for you?” She barged on, not giving him a chance to answer, aware only that she had to say it all, everything that had been festering inside her before she could feel calm again. “No. You just selfishly took off and left us all wondering
what .
 . . happened.” Then the anger vanished, and the pain returned. Her voice broke. Tears clogged her throat. “
We .
 . . I waited, Nick, and waited . . . ” A sob tore from her.

The next thing she knew, his arms were around her, holding her so tight she could barely breathe. But she didn’t care. He was here and, for the moment, that’s all that mattered. Not her anger or her loneliness or her confusion.

“Why?
Why .
 . . did you . . . leave me?’ Each word hung on a sob, until there were no more tears and no more words. She buried her face in his shoulder.

“I am so very sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “The last thing in the world I ever wanted to do was hurt you.” Taking her shoulders in his hands, he set her away from him and looked into her tear-filled eyes. What he saw there twisted his heart into a painful knot. Only the worse kind of fool would have hurt her, and he had. He knew that now. He also knew
,
if he was to keep her forever by his side, he had to make it right. “Please, Becky, if you’ll let me, I’ll try to explain.”

Taking her hand, he led her back to the rock and lifted her up on it. Then he climbed up beside her and then, needing to touch her, to know she was there, he took her hand in his and began talking. “When I was corpsman in
Iraq
, there was a boy just about Davy’s age. His name was Ahmed.”

By the time Nick
had reached the conclusion of his explanation, the sun had already started its descent over the mountains. The entire time, Becky hadn’t said a word. She’d just listened. “So, you see, I
had
to find out if they found Ahmed and gave him a proper burial. I know I should have told you I was leaving, but all I could think of was finding Chuck and getting the story.”

She turned to look into his
eyes,
hers were misty with unshed tears. “That’s why you searched so frantically for Davy, why you wouldn’t give up. That’s way you charged through the mountain like a crazed man and why you didn’t want to stop to rest. Now, I understand it all.”